Horror in Hertfordshire
by NeroHero
Summary: A few days after the Netherfield Ball, before getting a chance to leave for London, Mr. Darcy is found unconscious on the grounds of Longbourn. Elizabeth seems to know what happened, but will anyone believe her before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

_Hello, all! This is my first attempt at sharing any sort of fanfiction, so please go easy on me. I hope you like my silly little story, or at least find some amusement. I decided to start posting in the spirit of Halloween._

 _Thank you and enjoy! NH_

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"HELP!" she cried as she threw open the front doors, "Help! _Anyone_ , please!"

"What kind of disturbance is this, at this ungodly hour?" shouted her father as he descended the stairs, pulling on his coat, "Elizabeth? What is wrong?"

Seeing his most sensible daughter so clearly distressed was not how Mr. Bennet had hoped to begin his day. She looked frightful. Her hair was disheveled, she was pale as a sheet, and trembling. He reached for her shoulder, but she intercepted his hand and dragged him to the door. By now Hill had rounded the corner, and her sisters were peering down to stairs at the spectacle she was making.

"Quickly! Hurry! He is hurt—oh God!" she covered her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes, "I-I think he is dying. Someone, do something! Send for the doctor! _Please_!"

"Lizzy, my dear, calm down! What has gotten into you? Who is hurt?"

"Mr. Darcy!" she gestured out the door, where in the distance the figure of a man was visible, apparently unconscious and laying face down in the grass.

"Good God!" Bennet pushed past his daughter and made his way outside. "Mr. Darcy!" he called to the gentleman, but there was no response as he approached. Before long he was upon him, he grabbed his shoulders and began to turn him over, and he could see that the situation was as dire as Lizzy had described. Darcy's shirt collar and neck cloth were torn to tatters. He was covered in blood, the silky fabric of his waistcoat was soaked with it. All attempts to rouse him were met with failure.

Two footman and a stable boy appeared, likely sent by Hill, and Bennet called out for their assistance. The men were ordered to carry Darcy to the house. The boy pointed to the tree line, where a very distressed horse was standing on alert. The animal was breathing heavily, with nostrils flared. His eyes were bulging, with the whites of his eyes plainly visible. His ears swiveled around rapidly.

"A fine beast. Mr. Darcy's horse, I presume," said Mr. Bennet. The boy moved towards the animal, but it jumped to the side and trotted away while snorting quite wildly.

"He is too spooked to let you near him. Fetch a bucket of grain, and see if that gets his attention," Bennet suggested, as he made his way back to Longbourn.

Elizabeth stood exactly where Bennet had left her by the front door, but now she was in the arms of Jane, who was trying her best to comfort her sister. His youngest two daughters fluttered around, trying to make sense of the words muddled in Lizzy's unintelligible sobs. Mary led her father to a nearby room, where his wife and Mr. Darcy could be found.

"Oh, Mr. Bennet!" cried Mrs. Bennet, "This is horrible! We shall be remembered as the family that killed Mr. Darcy!"

Bennet turned to check on the young man. Mr. Darcy was laid out on a sofa, still unconscious. His pale complexion was not promising. His breathing was shallow, but he was still alive. "He is not dead yet."

"But he very soon shall be! Look at the poor fellow! Struck down in his prime! And he did not even have the courtesy to marry one of our girls first!"

He asked his wife if the doctor has been called for Once assured that he had indeed been sent for, Bennet settled back to the task at hand. Darcy could not be left in a sitting room. He would need privacy to be examined. Collins was already in the guest chamber, and that room was inconveniently situated regardless, when one had to consider relocating a rather tall, heavy unconscious gentleman.

Bennet exited to the hall and came upon his eldest two daughters once more. "Jane," he said, "Go and gather your belongings from your room. Take Hill, if you need her. We shall have to settle Mr. Darcy there to wait for the doctor."

Jane nodded and was off at once, leaving her sister in the care of her father. "Now Lizzy, dear girl, what happened to this young man? Did you see?"

Elizabeth nodded with an unusual meekness. "Papa," she choked, "He was...attacked."

Mr. Bennet's growing concern was interrupted as Lydia skipped by, "Lizzy! Tell him what you saw!" The younger girl erupted in laughter.

Elizabeth clenched her fists and raised her chin as she spoke, " _It was a monster!_ "


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, all! And thanks for the many follows, favorites, and reviews! As I mentioned last time, this is my first time sharing a fic. I hadn't quite expected my email to blow up the way it did! But what a pleasant surprise. Anyway, I hope you're enjoying my little story! I'll update it as frequently as I'm able, and your continued support has been very encouraging! Thanks again, NH

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"Lizzy thinks she saw a _monster,_ " Lydia blurted out between giggles, "And everyone says that _I_ am the silly one!"

"Lydia, Elizabeth! Be serious, a man has been hurt," commanded Mr. Bennet.

"I _am_ being serious, Papa," cried Elizabeth, "I know that it sounds ridiculous, but-"

"Elizabeth," her father irrupted. By this point, the entire household was present to observe the spectacle Elizabeth was making of herself, even Mr. Collins. He had to put a stop to it. "Jane must stay with you in your room while Mr. Darcy is to occupy hers. Go and help her, and remain put until I send for you. We shall speak of what you _think_ you saw later, after the doctor has seen to our guest."

Lizzy thought to object, but saw from her father's expression that this was not the time. As disappointed as she was that he did not believe his favorite daughter, she could understand his reluctance. She likely would have rejected such a tale, had she not lived it for herself. Perhaps, she thought, she might be able to convince him later. The doctor would confirm the truth. As things were, she reluctantly agreed and joined her sister upstairs.

Together Elizabeth and Jane had made quick work of transferring Jane's possessions to their temporarily shared quarters. A few minutes after they had finished, they could hear heavy boots shuffling in the hall. Both girls agreed that it must have been Mr. Darcy being carried to his room.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Elizabeth jumped. Was her father prepared to speak with her? So soon? Surely the doctor had not arrived already. Had Mr. Darcy's condition deteriorated?

The door opened to reveal their mother.

"Jane!" whispered Mrs. Bennet harshly, "Mr. Bingley has arrived. Come downstairs."

Jane colored prettily, but cast a glance to her sister, "Do you not think I should stay here with Lizzy?"

Mrs. Bennet huffed, "Oh, Elizabeth is fine! You are needed. Just because Mr. Bingley has come to see to his friend, does not mean that he cannot also enjoy your company while he is here. Come."

"Do not hesitate on my behalf," said Lizzy as she grasped her sister's hand, "Now that the excitement from this morning has calmed, I feel quite exhausted. I should rest. Go."

And with that, Mrs. Bennet and Jane slipped away downstairs. Elizabeth laid on her bed and attempted to rest. Every time her eyes were shut, she was haunted by horrible visions of gnashing teeth and splattering blood. She found that she was perhaps not feeling so in need of rest after all, and abandoned that endeavor.

She thought perhaps reading would be a better way to occupy her time, and that was when an idea struck. She needed to get to the library. Surely when her father had instructed to 'stay put' what he really had meant was 'remain out of sight.' Perhaps, under this interpretation, a quick trip to the library would not be a problem—as long as everyone was occupied elsewhere.

Elizabeth pressed her ear to the door and listened for movement outside. She could hear the faint ' _click'_ of the door across the hall closing, but she could hear nothing else, no further movement.

" _The doctor must have arrived and begun his examination,"_ Elizabeth thought to herself. Now was her chance.

She cracked the door open and crept away. She was careful to take soft, swift steps and to remain out of sight. Years of childhood mischief had taught her which creaky floor boards to avoid on such a mission. After a few stealthy corners were rounded, she found herself in her father's library.

She knew exactly where to search. Her father kept a shelf of treasured oddities, a collection of absurd titles that brought him joy through their sheer ridiculousness. Her fingers glided from one spine to the next until she found her goal. She quickly swapped the book out with one of the novels she'd recently finished reading, knowing that an empty space would call unwanted attention.

With her prize in tow, Elizabeth slipped away back to her room. She completed the return journey in the same expert manner she'd used to arrive while avoiding detection. She slowly, slowly closed the door behind her, so that only the smallest sound of it clicking shut escaped.

Satisfied with the success of her mission, she ran her fingers over the gilded letters making up the title _Monsters of the World._


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! Sorry for the time lapse between updates. November is a tough month for me. I was going to save this chapter and post it in a double update (the next chapter is nearly complete) but a friend convinced me that this one deserves its own time in the spotlight. Instead, the next chapter should be up some time next week. Thanks for sticking with me (to those that have) and I hope you enjoy this new chapter - in which Elizabeth finally tells us what happened to Mr. Darcy! Her story should help you figure out what type of monster we have on our hands, but if there's still any doubt, we'll have a definitive answer in the next chapter. See you then, NH

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Elizabeth cracked the book open and was disappointed to see that there was no table of contents and no index, just detailed entries listed one after another. She wondered how a book on a subject such as this had ever been published at all, let alone one so poorly organized. It was going to be extremely difficult to find anything.

She skimmed through page by page: a huge serpent reported to live in a lake, a striped unicorn from the African continent, a water-horse that drowned any man who sat atop its back. Elizabeth noticed nothing of any particular use, although several rather interesting passages did offer some amusement.

She was not sure how far she had read by the time the sound of approaching footsteps disrupted her. Elizabeth marked her place with a ribbon, and stashed the book out of sight. There was a knock at the door.

"Elizabeth," her father's voice commanded. No further instructions were necessary. She left to meet her father in his study.

"Now, dear girl, tell me how you came to find Mr. Darcy this morning," said he, "You did not set out to meet him, surely?"

"I did not," she scoffed, "You know I do not care for him."

"Of course not, but please do explain what happened."

"I had awoken early, and found I could not return to sleep. Feeling restless, I thought I might like to watch the sun rise from Oakham Mount," she began, "No one else was yet awake, and I saw no reason to cause a disturbance. I dressed myself and set out alone. I have done so before, as you are aware."

"Indeed. But something was different today?"

" _Yes._ I had arrived without incident and awaited the sunrise. It was then that I noticed a rider in the distance. I hid myself behind a tree so as to remain out of sight. I did not at first know that it was Mr. Darcy. He was too far away, and the light was poor. If he had seen me, he made no sign of it. He was riding along the approaching tree line. He was still many yards away when I recognized him. I did not wish to be disturbed, especially not by him, so I took care to remain out of sight. But-" she stammered, "But when I peered through the branches next..."

"Go on," he insisted.

"I had heard the leaves rustling, but, oh! I had thought nothing of it—surely, it was the wind!" her head sank and she began to shiver, "It was not! It was a creature—a monster! In the shape of a man. I had looked just in time to see it leap from the trees and onto the back of Mr. Darcy's horse. There was a terrible struggle! The horse, poor creature, it spun and leaped but the monster held firm. Mr. Darcy, he fought both to gain control of his horse, and to defend himself. But it was too late, Papa!"

"Too late?"

"Too late!" she cried, as tears flooded her eyes, "The teeth—inhuman—monstrous! His throat in its jaws! Oh, the blood! It was terrible! Grotesque!"

"Mr. Darcy's throat?" he questioned.

"It—It was nearly torn out, Papa!" she sobbed into her hands.

"Hm," he nodded, "What happened next?"

She took a few minutes to compose herself before continuing, "Mr. Darcy, he threw his head back and it hit the creature in the face. It must have been enough to stun it, for when the horse next turned sharply, the monster lost its balance and fell to the ground. Mr. Darcy's horse bolted away, and I did not see what became of the monster, for I was already running myself. I was halfway home when I encountered them again—Mr. Darcy and his horse. He was nearly unconscious, so I took the reins and thought to lead them here, since they were so much closer to Longbourn than to Netherfield. We had almost made it to the house when he slumped over and fell where you found him this morning."

"A fantastic tale," her father stated as he folded his hands together, "Now, be truthful with me, did you concoct it to scare Mr. Collins off from offering for you? If so, you have been successful in that, at least. He fears you are unsuitable and seems to have transferred his interest to Mary."

"I have concocted nothing," she said, "You asked me what happened, and I told you the truth. I know it sounds fantastic, but-"

"-What really happened to Mr. Darcy? Did he fall from his horse? He seems a skittish beast. Our groom said he is back-sore. Was he thrown?"

"I told you what happened! Did you not see his injuries? They confirm what I have said! Surely the doctor has seen him by now!"

"The doctor has come and gone," said Mr. Bennet gravely, "There are no injuries, Elizabeth."


	4. Chapter 4

Hello, everyone! I hope you don't find this week's chapter too terribly cliche. As I've said before, I'm very new at this. I had a lot of trouble with this chapter, and I'm still not exactly satisfied with it. I'm much more pleased with how the next one, which is nearly complete, is going. I'd considered holding this one back to post both at once, but I'm having some RL problems and would rather have the buffer on hand. See you next week! NH

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"What?" Elizabeth asked, stunned.

"There are no injuries," her father answered, "At least, none that are visible."

"It is not possible! The blood! You must have seen it!"

"The doctor said that perhaps Mr. Darcy had injured his nose as he fell from his horse. I did find him face-down. It is very likely. Otherwise there could have been a small unseen gash—such things can bleed profusely. We cannot know how hard his fall was, so we cannot know if he will recover from the impact. He has not yet awoken."

"It is not possible," Lizzy repeated, "I saw it happen, Papa! I _saw_ it all happen!"

"It was very early, child. Perhaps you had fallen back asleep and dreamed it all. There was no monster. It was just an unfortunate accident."

"But-"

"-No," Mr. Bennet interrupted, "We shall speak no more of this. You are not yourself. Go back to your room. I shall have a tray brought up to you. I suggest you go to bed early and pray that your wits are returned in the morning."

Elizabeth said nothing as she left the room. She knew it would do no good. She knew that her account of events would sound absurd to any sane person, even Jane. She'd counted on Mr. Darcy's grave injuries to back up her claim, but they had vanished. How? It was just not _humanly_ possible.

She returned to her room and recovered the book, _Monsters of the World_ , from where she had hidden it. She sat down and began skimming through with a purpose. She needed to find answers, and they _had_ to be in that book. It was her only hope.

There must be a monster that could take the shape of a man. A monster that could grow terrible, gnashing teeth at a moment's notice. Something, anything, that might explain how Mr. Darcy might have healed from seemingly fatal injuries in the course of one single afternoon. Elizabeth has _seen_ the fangs tearing away at the gentleman's throat. If he was truly uninjured now, it was the work of something beyond comprehension.

She soon came upon an entry that stopped her in her tracks:

 **VAMPIRE**

 **Devilish nocturnal creatures that prey upon men to feed on their blood. All vampires were once men themselves, turned into fiends through a contagious** ** _blood curse_** **.** ** **They remain just as cunning, intelligent, and charismatic as they had been previously.** They can appear to be human or near-human. Individual abilities vary, but generally include heightened senses, increased speed and agility, accelerated healing, shape-changing, mesmerism, and more. All vampires are able to produce a set of sharp fangs at will. They often live in large 'covens' consisting of a head vampire (progenitor) and those who have been afflicted with their ****_blood curse_** **. They seem to have a very long lifespan—possibly immortal. They are weakened by sunlight, silver, and lack of feeding. They can be killed by prolonged exposure to bright sunlight, starvation, decapitation, or a wooden stake through the heart. It is said that the death of a head vampire (progenitor) can break the** ** _blood_ _curse_ of their coven.** **Considered incredibly dangerous, interaction is not advised.**

The description resonated with everything Elizabeth had experienced that morning. She read it three times over, committing every word to memory. It explained everything. That the creature could leap so effortlessly from the treetops. The teeth. The apparent blood-lust. But more—that Mr. Darcy's injuries had healed. Did he now suffer from the curse of his assailant?

Elizabeth could explore her thoughts on the matter no further, for Jane had returned.

"Oh, Lizzy," said her sister, "Mr. Bingley is so distressed. He is terribly guilty for inviting Mr. Darcy to Hertfordshire. He feels responsible for his accident."

"It was not Mr. Bingley's fault," Elizabeth replied as she tucked the book away casually.

"I agree, but poor Mr. Bingley still blames himself," Jane sighed, "He says that Mr. Darcy is his dearest friend and the best man he has ever known. He worries about what will become of Miss Darcy if her brother does not recover. He has sent an express to Mr. Darcy's cousin, a Colonel Fitzwilliam, in the hopes that he shall bring Miss Darcy to her brother's side. There is so little else that can be done..."

Jane detailed the rest of her afternoon, and before long a tray for Elizabeth arrived as promised. She had no appetite, but her elder sister insisted that she should try to eat regardless. Lizzy pecked at and rearranged the tray's contents until Jane was satisfied.

Late that night, the two sisters were curled up in bed. Jane seemed to drift peacefully into slumber as soon as her head rested against her pillow, but sleep did not come quite so easily for Elizabeth. She tossed and turned, agitated; every distant creak of the house settling and every gust of wind outside the window, were these the ambient sounds of her home, or something more sinister? After what felt to be an eternity, she closed her eyes and sleep finally overtook her.


	5. Chapter 5

Howdy, guys! Here's this week's chapter. I hope you enjoy it. As always, thank you for reading! I may need to take a short break from updating until after the holiday. Until next time! NH

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Suddenly, Elizabeth stood in a dark, unfamiliar forest, and it was raining. Not just a friendly shower, but a torrential downpour. Thunder boomed in the distance. The sky was dark, save for the illumination offered by the occasional flash of lightning.

She was fully soaked, her drenched pelisse offered no warmth or comfort, but instead weighed down heavily against her skin. The mud was thick and slippery as she walked, and her poor petticoat was caked with far more than a mere six inches of it.

Her eyes darted around, trying to place her surroundings. It was impossible. She could see scarcely more than an arm's length in front of herself because of the darkness, and even that was obscured by the fog of her breath. Where was she? How did she get here?

A sickening crack pierced the air as the sky flickered. She could see through the flashes of light that she was not alone. In the distance was a shadowy figure, slowly approaching, and headed straight for her.

Elizabeth was terrified. She turned to flee, but her feet were practically swallowed by the deep, viscous mud. She twisted her ankle to wrench herself free. She charged forward blindly and unknowingly threw herself into a large elm. Peeling herself away from the tree, she stumbled on. The hot tears on her cheeks contrasted starkly with the cold raindrops falling over her.

Somehow she knew that despite her best efforts, the stalker was closing in on her. She could not hear its footsteps, only the sounds of the storm and the frantic pants that betrayed her own horror and exhaustion. But she could feel in her gut that the beast was nearly upon her.

She lost her footing and slipped, tumbling over an unseen ledge. She knew her fate was sealed. She closed her eyes and cringed, bracing for an impact that never came.

When she dared open her eyes, she was in her bedroom once more. She sat up, gasping for air. She was no longer soaked through with rain, but dampened by a sheen of sweat despite the chilly November air. There were no trees, no forest. To her left was Jane, her sleeping figure rising and falling with steady, even breaths.

Elizabeth's heart beat rapidly in her chest. Was she going mad? She had suffered nightmares before, but none so real as this. Her thoughts raced. She knew she would find no further rest tonight. Were the events of that morning a nightmare, too? She desperately hoped so, but she knew that could not be the case. It had happened. Was she safe here, warm in her bed? She certainly did not feel safe.

Worst of all, there was nobody to comfort her or console her, not even Jane. Elizabeth had never felt so alone. Nobody believed what she had witnessed that morning. Of course they did not. There was no evidence. Papa said that Mr. Darcy appeared entirely uninjured.

Mr. Darcy. The victim of the brutal attack that haunted her. She had never liked him, not since he had insulted her the night they met, but he surely did not deserve what had happened to him. She found she felt nothing but sympathy for him now. Was he truly healed? Could he have been cursed? Was he now a vampire? Elizabeth had to know. There was only one way to find out.

She crept out of bed, careful not to disturb Jane. She grabbed a shawl to cover herself with and opened her bedroom door. The hallway was dark. No one was awake. She crossed the hall, but hesitated at the door. She knew she should not proceed. She knew it was wrong to enter a man's room at all, especially in the middle of the night. To be caught would be disastrous, but she _had_ to see the truth with her own eyes. She entered.

The nearby fire cast a soft glow about the room. Elizabeth could see a lone figure in the bed. As she approached she was shocked by how very human Mr. Darcy looked, perhaps even more so than when she had last seen him at the Netherfield Ball. They had danced together then, and he had been so stiff and polished and perfectly turned out.

The man who lay before her now was entirely opposite. His hair was mussed, and he looked very vulnerable. She blushed at the intimacy of seeing him so. He appeared much younger as he slept. He had been changed out of his bloodied clothes. His shirt collar was open.

His throat was intact.

She stepped closer and gazed down at him. She reached to turn his head so that she might inspect him more closely. He did not stir at her touch. There was no sign of the injuries she'd seen that morning, not a single bruise or blemish or scar. It was beyond belief.

She remembered the words she had read in the passage from _Monsters of the World._ "They can appear to be human or near-human," she whispered to herself. She thought back to the terrible, gnashing teeth of the monster she had seen from Oakham Mount. She had to confirm her suspicion.

She was surprised at how easily his jaw yielded. His teeth appeared blunt, as they very well should. She was prepared to sigh with relief, but a nagging feeling in her gut urged her on. She had to be sure there was no illusion. She would find no peace until she was certain.

She reached one trembling hand to his mouth. The shocking tickle of his breath against her skin caused her to pause momentarily. He showed no signs of movement, so she pressed on. Just as she was about to make contact, something terrible happened.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey, guys. This chapter gave me a lot of trouble. It's a rough time of year for me, and that makes writing in general pretty hard. But I'd also waxed and waned about some pretty important decisions with the plot for a while. My outline deviated from my original idea for the story at this point, and I'd considered making some last-minute deviations. There were so many possibilities! Wouldn't it be neat if some day I revisited this story as a choose-your-own adventure, and got to explore all those other options? In the end I went with my initial idea. We'll hopefully get more insight next time as to the motivation and consequences behind the decision made in this chapter. Anyway, Merry Xmas to those who celebrate. -NH

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Hideous fangs erupted suddenly, from where only moments before comparatively dull canines were in place. Elizabeth retreated immediately across the room, stopping only when she stumbled against the farthest wall. She pressed her hands over her mouth to suppress a scream. She could not risk waking the household like this.

The pounding of her heart hammered in her ears as she waited, but nothing happened. Mr. Darcy continued to lay motionless, as he had been doing since she had entered the room. Comforted slightly by his lack of movement, her thoughts began to race as she contemplated what to do next.

She ought to wake her father and show him this discovery. She could prove to him that everything she had said was true. He might even apologize for treating her so harshly before. What would he do, though, after that? Send for the magistrate? The militia? Who handles such things? And what, then, would become of Mr. Darcy?

She held no particular fondness for the man, but he had done nothing to warrant such a fate as would surely befall him then. He had been attacked. He was a victim. He had harmed no one—not yet. But would he, when he awoke? _If_ he awoke?

Why, if his injuries were now healed, had he not recovered yet? Mr. Darcy was now a vampire, he ought to be nocturnal. He should have become active by now. She wondered how much energy had been required to heal his wounds. Was he weakened? Her stomach turned as she thought that he might be in need of a _meal._ Mr. Darcy, a vampire. A guest in her home, under her father's roof. He might prove to be more of a threat than the one that had attacked him outdoors! He could kill everyone she loved as they slept in their beds.

She thought, perhaps, that the kindest, wisest course of action would be to kill him as he slept, before he or anyone else became aware of his tragic curse. But she had no convenient wooden stake with which to impale him. The sun had long since set, and would not return to aid her for many hours yet. She had neither the stomach nor the strength required to decapitate a grown man. How long would it take for him to starve to death?

Elizabeth slumped forward, burying her face in her hands. Why should _she_ be the only one to have seen what she did, to know what she does? Why should _she_ feel so responsible for Mr. Darcy's fate? She had not been the one to put him into this situation. Why should she _not_ just walk away and leave him now? He did not seem to be a threat, being unable to move in his bed. He might waste away and die without anyone knowing the truth.

Elizabeth mustered her courage and stepped forward to the bed once more. She gazed down at Mr. Darcy, attempting to summon every unkind feeling she had ever felt towards the gentleman. Her lip quivered as she, rather frustratingly, discovered that she could find nothing but compassion.

Her determination further wavered when she considered how his young sister would feel when she heard the news. How terrible it would be, to read word that your only brother was grievously injured or dead. How much worse it would be for her to discover that he was now a monster!

Elizabeth's attention was instantly arrested by the rattling of a nearby window. The curtains were drawn to keep out the chill.

"It is just the wind," she quietly attempted to convince herself.

She moved towards the window, reaching nervously. What if it was _not_ just the wind? What if it was something more sinister? What would she do if she pulled that curtain back, and _something_ was there? What if it was the vampire from this morning? What if it was a whole _coven_ of the creatures? She was defenseless. Her family was defenseless. All of Hertfordshire, defenseless!

Her stomach turned as she snatched away the heavy fabric, half-convinced she would be faced with a predator's glowing red eyes. There was nothing but blackness on the other side of the glass, yet she was not relieved. She considered her situation once more. She turned back to the bed.

"Mr. Darcy," she stated, "I am considering something very foolish."

He, of course, did not respond.

She slipped out of the room for a moment, and returned wearing her favorite silver cross and a fresh look of resolve. In her hand she carried a sharp knife. With great trepidation, she approached. She winced as she used the knife to slice one of the fingers on her left hand. Blood was drawn instantly.

She spoke to herself, "I do not see why _I_ should be tasked with deciding what should become of you, sir. You may yet be perfectly capable of making the decision."

She tilted her hand, and blood pooled to her fingertip. Gravity sent one dark drop downwards, followed by another, and another.

Six or seven drops fell into Mr. Darcy's mouth before she was satisfied and snatched her injured hand away. She stepped back once more to the far wall, where she brandished her small knife defensively as she waited.


End file.
